


Rage and sorrow

by myotishia



Series: Psyonic [14]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myotishia/pseuds/myotishia
Summary: An art exhibition becomes a bloodbath and Torchwood is tasked with stopping it from happening again.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato
Series: Psyonic [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766956
Comments: 16
Kudos: 22





	1. Exhibition

Cardiff masonic hall was a beautiful building. All dark wood and tiled floors. It was a popular place for events like weddings but at that moment in time it looked more like a slaughterhouse. It was supposed to be an art exhibit and though the pieces were still there they were splattered with blood. Bodies were strewn across the floor, all dressed smartly, some still holding onto the stems of broken crystal glasses. Jack winced as he walked into the room, closely followed by both Gwen and Owen. 

“They weren’t exaggerating.” Owen commented, trying to step around a puddle of blood. 

Gwen shook her head. “One minute they’re all just quietly looking at paintings and the next they’re ripping each other apart.” She edged around the other side of the room. A thud came from the wooden seating at the back of the room making both her and Owen reach for their weapons. He walked slowly and carefully, checking each line of seats, finally spotting movement. A man who looked to be in his seventies was huddled on the floor.

“Wait! Don’t hurt me!” The old man gasped, seeing Owen. 

He put his gun away and approached. “What are you doing back here?”

“I was hiding.” Uncurling himself he revealed that he had a large set of gashes running down the left side of his face. 

“Oh christ.” He waved over to Jack. “Call an ambulance and see if they’ve got a wheelchair somewhere around here.”

Jack nodded and swept out of the door. 

Owen crouched down in the small space. “What’s your name mate?”

“Rodger. Rodger Herbert Bennington.” The man said shakily. 

“Ok Rodger. I’m Owen and the lady over there is Gwen. We’re going to try and help you, ok? How old are you?”

“Seventy eight.”

“Well you’re looking good for it.” He said while checking the mans heart rate. 

Roger chuckled, almost smiling even with half of his face ripped open. Gwen had taken a moment to run out to the SUV and grab the larger of the medical kits and handed a large dressing to the man. 

“Here. See if we can stop that bleeding.” She said softly, helping him hold it over the wounds. 

“Thank you. I look a right mess.” He said, holding the dressing with his free hand.

“Don’t worry about all that. What happened in here?”

“I… I don’t really know… I was sitting here with the curator just talking. My legs don’t like me standing up for too long… We heard a lot of chatter about these three paintings. They’d been covered up. His prized possessions he said. They’d been unveiled and he went to gloat. Next thing I know he’s marching back with a broken bottle in his hand. He hit me and… Well, it’s a little fuzzy after that. I remember hiding under these benches.” 

“You’re doing great. Did you hurt anywhere else when you fell?”

“No. My knees are bad but I think they’re ok.”

“Any dizziness?” Asked Owen, removing the blood pressure cuff from Rogers arm. 

“No. I can’t open my left eye though.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to at the minute. Right, when Jack gets back with a wheelchair we’re going to get you out of here but I need you to close your eyes until we’re out.”

“It must be bloody awful out there.”

“You’re not wrong.” 

Gwen looked over to the door as she heard it open and saw Jack walk back in pushing a folded wheelchair. “Looks like our transport’s here.”

“Right then, let’s get you up off the floor. Gwen, can you support his right side?” 

She clambered round and helped to lift the man up and onto the seats. He wasn’t that heavy but it was clear how weak he was. They then moved him to the wheelchair and moved him out of the room as fast as was safe. It wasn’t long before the paramedics arrived and Owen stayed to update them on the mans injuries. Gwen and Jack returned to the scene and checked the area around where Roger had been found. There was broken glass scattered around and the curator lay dead on the floor only feet away with the stem of a wine glass partially sticking out of his back. 

“Didn’t the police say that nothing had been touched in here?” Jack asked, looking at one display.

Gwen nodded and walked over to join him. “Yes. Why?”

“Then where are the three paintings that were here?” He gestured to the empty hanging hooks. 

“Maybe someone took them in the chaos.” 

“Or caused the chaos to take the paintings.”

Tosh studied the photographs of the three stolen images. Not one of the photos was of the complete image. All of them had a sheet covering at least half of the painting. They were painted by an unknown artist some time in the eighteen hundreds and were worth more than a million pounds per piece due to their unique composition. The exhibition was the first time they’d been shown publicly in seventy years. Though there was little information on what had happened during that display she was not one to give up. By cross referencing the time and location she’d found a large number of violent attacks perpetrated by people likely to have attended. Though correlation did not always equal causation in this case she was sure that it did. After all they’d recently known paintings with telepathic properties so there being others in existence was possible. Now she had to find out where they’d gone. The hall had a few cameras but they were old and had a framerate a picture book would be ashamed of so she only had a few stills to work with before the thief escaped. Whoever they were they knew what they were doing. They’d made sure they were out of view of the paintings to avoid their effects and covered them before leaving. They also seemed to know where the cameras were as they made sure not to face them at any point. 

Ianto placed a mug of coffee on her desk. “Find anything useful?”

“Thanks. Not really. Well, I know that someone took the paintings but as to who they are I have no idea. These are the only images I could get.”

“So, really good shots of the back of their head.”

“Yep.” She sipped her coffee and relaxed into her chair.

“At least you know he’s part of a masonic order.”

“Hmm?”

“He’s wearing a masonic ring. That’s probably how he walked out without being stopped too.”

“You can tell?” She looked to the screen and specifically the thieves hands. 

He pointed to the ring. “It’s the shape. You can see some of the other members wearing them too. I could be wrong but it looks too similar to be a coincidence.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be the one to know anything about the masons.”

“I don’t. There’s an old gentleman that pops into the office for a chat once in a while and he has the same ring. Melody might know more. Any conspiracy theorist worth their salt knows at least something on the freemasons.” 

“Well, if we use their list of members it narrows the number of suspects. I’ll ask Gwen to talk to the other members still at the hall.”

“Even if we can’t identify him we could stop the paintings being sold.”

“Black market sales are so annoying to search through. Though I doubt this’ll be advertised online. It might be a case of having to find a private auction.” 

“How?”

“I think Jack has a few contacts. When I first joined he went to a private art auction to pick up an alien plasma cutter that they advertised as a modern art sculpture.” 

Gwen had pulled the event manager, Ernest Garfield, aside to ask him a few questions. She was led to a quiet room where he offered her a seat.

“Thank you. I know this is a traumatic time for you but we need to find out who caused this.” She explained.

The man nodded and sat. He was in his late fifties and reminded her of a stern headmaster. “I understand. Please go ahead.”

“As you know, three paintings were stolen during the chaos and though we haven’t identified the thief yet we have good reason to believe he is part of your organisation.”

He looked startled. “What? Why would any of us do something so… Awful.”

“I know this is a shock, and you never want to suspect a friend, but the culprit was wearing a masonic ring and seemed to have prior knowledge of where the security cameras are.”

He clearly didn’t want to believe it but there was something in his eyes that suspected someone.

“Even if there’s the slightest chance someone might be involved then please tell us. If it turns out they weren’t then it rules them out.”

“We’ve had a few new members recently. One of them… Well, he’s enthusiastic. A bit too enthusiastic. I’ll get you his address.” 

“Thank you Mr Garfield, this helps a lot.” She assured him.

“If it was one of our people, will you be able to tell me? We don’t accept thieves in our order.”

“I’ll do my best to keep you informed.”

He nodded a thank you and walked out, returning minutes later with a name and address written on a piece of paper. “I know it sounds ridiculous but there were rumours that those paintings were cursed. They were the only ones not up for sale.” 

Melody collected the morning newspapers. They sometimes got read but most of the time they were used as treats for Janet. Once the staples were removed of course. The weevil could spend over an hour just ripping the papers apart and eating the remnants. Whatever kept her happy Mel supposed. 

She set them on the desk and opened the first up to remove the staples when the outside door to the tourist information office opened. She immediately recognised who entered. 

“Good morning Andy. I didn’t expect you to pop in here today. Want me to call Gwen?” She smiled brightly. 

He had his hat tucked under his arm and a slightly grim look on his face. “Um, no. I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?”

“Yea, any chance there’s somewhere we could have a chat in private?”

Her stomach dropped and she could hear him trying to think of anything other than what he was there to talk about. “Um, ok, let me just call Ianto.” She took her mobile from her pocket and hit his contact. “Hi. Yea, can you pop up here for a sec please?... Kind of has to be now, yea… Ok… Thanks.” She ended the call and looked back at Andy. “He’ll be up in a sec. Are you on your break?”

The officer shook his head. “Not for another two hours I’m afraid.”

“Has something bad happened?” Her palms had started to sweat from nerves and she had to stop herself just looking into his memories to find out the answer.

“Melody, we should wait until we’re sitting somewhere private, yea?” His voice was soft and reassuring but nothing was going to stop the knot in her stomach forming. 

The hidden door opened, Ianto knowing that Andy was fine to let in. “Is there something wrong?” He asked, sweeping past to make sure the outer door was closed. 

“I need to speak with Melody somewhere private. Sorry to bother you in the middle of the day, but it’s urgent.”

“That should be fine. You can use the meeting room.” He escorted them both to the meeting room, getting a very confused look from Tosh as they went past. He left them in private, not wanting to pry even if he was very concerned. 

Andy sat and placed his hat on the table. 

“So, what’s going on?” Mel asked, her pendant gripped between her fingers. 

He steadied his voice and began a speech he always hated delivering. “I’m sorry to inform you that Delilah Olivia Archer was found deceased in her home this morning.”

She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. 

“I’m so sorry. I thought you should hear it from someone you knew.”

“I… How?”

“We’re investigating-”

“Andy, please.” A tear rolled down her face. 

He took a pack of tissues from his pocket and handed her one. “I don’t know all the details but… We don’t think it was self inflicted.”

“I know we didn’t get along but-”

“No, no. You’re not a suspect. I’m pretty certain you have a solid alibi. The reason I came to see you … And I could lose my job for this, but I think you’ll be safer if you know. I don’t know how she managed it but Miss Paul wrangled a home visit over christmas and she hasn’t been heard from since. Her parents say they saw her get into the taxi with her case worker, but after that it’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth along with her case worker. It’s possible she’s already crossed the border but because of the whole Torchwood thing you weren’t on any contact list.” 

She let the information sink in. All colour had drained from her face and her hands were shaking. “Do… Do you think it could have been her that... Attacked Delilah?”

“It’s too early to tell. God I’m so sorry.”

“I should… Call my mum…” She sniffled. 

He took her hand softly. “Let us inform your parents. You need to take a moment for yourself.” 

“Are they going to be in danger?” 

“I don’t think so. No.”

“Good… I… If you hear anything can… Of course you can’t tell me. What am I asking.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

She nodded. “Thank you… Can I have a minute alone?” 

“Of course. I’ll be just outside.” He stood and stepped out of the door, coming face to face with Gwen. The sound of sobbing could be heard through the door as he quickly told Gwen what was going on. 


	2. Loss

Gwen sat with her arm around Melodys shoulders. “Why don’t I take you home, yea?”

“No.” She sniffed. “I can walk.”

“Not with that psychopath on the loose.” 

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“Sweetheart, you’re not thinking logically. I don’t blame you but please listen, we don’t need to get a call that something’s happened to you too.”

She didn’t have the energy to fight. If she was honest she would rather stay at work and not have to take any calls. She didn’t want to hear her mum crying or have Persephone in hysterics. She didn’t want close family members calling to give their condolences. She just wanted to be left alone. 

“Is there anyone you want me to call?”

“Gwen… You shouldn’t be comforting me.”

“What? Why?” The confusion was clear on her face.

“Because I’m not the good person you think I am.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Everyone's going to be calling me, telling me they’re sorry, telling me what a good person Delilah was. And I’m going to have to agree because she’s… Was my sister. I’m meant to say that I’m heartbroken and that I’ll miss her just because we share the same parents but… She made my life hell for a long time. She hated me… She tried to poison me once and I covered for her because I was always told that we should look out for each other… I’m sad because someone I knew is gone but… I just can’t stand knowing that I’m going to have to say that I loved her when I didn’t. Isn’t that awful?” She looked up from staring at the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks, her whole body shaking. 

Gwen shook her head. “No. You had a complicated relationship with her. Not feeling the way you think you should is normal.”

“But isn’t it selfish?”

“To take care of others you sometimes have to take care of yourself first. This is one of those times. That’s not a selfish thing to do.”

She wiped her eyes and took a long, shaking, breath. “I have a question.”

“Yea?”

“Doesn’t Naomi think I’m dead?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“Then why did she try and escape unless someone or something told her that I’m not?” 

“I wish I knew.”

“Sorry. You just got back from that bloodbath and you’re having to deal with me.” 

“Jack and Owen can deal with that for now. I want to be here for you.”

The address Gwen had been given was a rather upscale flat being rented by a Mr Joseph Lynn. Both Jack and Owen were sceptical that the thief would have just run home but it was worth a look around anyway. Jack knocked, not expecting anyone to answer. They didn’t, but there was a sudden clattering from inside. He shrugged and took a few steps back before kicking the door in. Joseph froze in the middle of his living room, his hands held in the air as he saw the two guns being pointed in his direction. 

“Don’t shoot!” He gasped. 

Jack surveyed the room. “Where are the paintings you stole?”

“I already handed them off.”

“To who?”

“I can’t… They’d kill me.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “And we’re just standing here threatening you with bloody water pistols.”

“Look… Just… You want money? Take it.” He gestured to a suitcase sitting on the coffee table. 

Jack pushed the door closed and dragged a chair in front of it as the lock was broken. “You tell us where the paintings are and we’ll leave. We don’t want your money.”

“I don’t know where they took the things. I was just told to grab them and not look at them.”

“So you don’t know what they do?”

“You mean all those people ripping each other to pieces? I saw. I’m just a middleman here.”

“Then tell us who hired you. Knowing how much the paintings are worth means I’m sure you have enough in that case to disappear.”

“I can’t. Six grand sounded enough. I don’t know anything about them.”

“It wasn’t a request.” He glared, though he had a hard time keeping a smirk from his face. “You’ve been taken for a ride. Each of those paintings is worth more than a million pounds.”

“The masons can make your lives really hard, you know that?”

He laughed. “Do you believe everything you read on the internet? They aren’t the mob and even if they were they still wouldn’t be able to do anything against us. How did your boss contact you?” He looked around for a phone charger, or coat, anything that could show a sign of where this man kept his mobile phone.”

“They just turned up after one of the meetings a few months ago.”

“And you just decided to do them a favour?” Asked Owen sceptically. 

“No. They invited me to this posh dinner. Everyone was throwing money around and that’s when they told me about this art exhibition. They said they’d make sure there was a distraction if I swiped the paintings. And if I didn’t it wouldn’t be foxes they’d be following on their next hunt.”

“So why are you protecting them?”

“You think they can’t buy off the police? Make sure I have a little accident? I don’t know who sent you two but you’d be better off telling your boss to drop it.”

Jack picked up the phone that had been charging in the kitchen and began scrolling through the recent calls list. “I’ll be sure to tell her majesty the next time I speak to her.”

“Wait… Are you MI5 or something?”

“Or something.”

“If I tell you then they’ll never find out, right?”

“We’re not going to tell them a thing.”

“His name’s Alastor Grey. His whole family are in on it. Especially that psychopath son of his. He had blood on his shirt when I handed him the paintings.”

Owen tapped his earpiece. “Did you get that?”

“I did. Lord Alastor Grey, fifty five years old. One son, Alastor Grey the second, twenty eight years old. Both have long criminal records though no convictions. Looks like he’s been on our radar before for selling alien artefacts twenty four years ago.”

Back at the hub Gwen was waiting. She’d spent a little longer with Melody then assured Andy that she had everything under control. He had to get back out as he was still on the clock but said he’d try and keep her informed. After that she’d gone to help Tosh find as much information about the Grey family as she could. They had a long history of corruption, from theft, to money laundering, to assault. What made it worse, at least for Torchwood, was that they had their claws in a lot of political and governmental bodies. Ones that could make life a bit more difficult. Not that could stop them but still. 

“It looks like there’s already a listing for the paintings.” Tosh said.

Gwen looked over. “That was quick.”

“It’s not available for three weeks and it looks like they’ll be in storage until then. We could attempt to take them by force or wait until the night of the auction.”

“The night of the auction would give us a lot longer to prepare, and we can hide in plain sight.”

“It’s invite only, but I’m sure I can find a way to either forge one or otherwise get hold of one.”

“Maybe Jack’ll know someone we can get one from.” 

“Actually I do.” Jack said as he walked over to them. “But he’s in Canada until next week. How’s Melody holding up?”

She sighed. “She said she wanted to stay and work so she didn’t have to answer any calls from family.”

“Is she upstairs?”

“No, she’s helping Ianto with something in the archives. Did you know her ex had escaped?”

“You would have known if I did.”

An unusually quiet week passed, the rift only spitting out a few pieces of debris from across space and time. Jack and Gwen went to meet his contact. Arnold Kent had spent a large chunk of his youth as an art thief and forger. As he’d made a decent amount of money for himself he’d started to move away from theft and had started a legitimate collection. That’s when he’d met Jack Harkness. The captain had started a bidding war with Mr Kent that he’d eventually won. He decided to fall back on old habits and steal the piece under the cover of darkness. He’d crept into the small house, confused as to why someone with that kind of money would be staying somewhere so tiny. He’d listened at the door to the living room as Jack was speaking to someone. He didn’t recognise the language the other person was speaking and only just escaped as Jack was thrown clear through the door he’d just been listening at. A creature that he’d seen a perfect capture of in the painting he’d lost out on stepped through the empty doorway before it was shot in the head. He learned that night what Torchwood was and since then Jack had called on him for when they needed an art expert. 

At sixty eight he wanted to retire so seeing that familiar silhouette at his door didn’t impress. 

“Arnold Kent, how long has it been?” Jack beamed. 

“Not long enough. Come in and tell me what you need.”

“Why so bitter?”

“Why so at my door?”

Gwen smirked at the level of snark the man was giving as they entered the comfortable home. Multiple paintings covered the walls and sculptures sat in display cases, all looking like an art gallery more than a home. Arnold sat in a comfortable armchair and gestured to a sofa for them to sit. 

“Do you still get invitations for private auctions?” Jack asked.

Mr Kent raised an eyebrow. “Yes, but I’m years out of doing any kind of work that would let me attend them.”

“Then you’re in luck, we just need the invitation.”

“Fine. Which one?”

“Lord Grey.”

“That know nothing thug? What could he possibly have that you could want?”

“Three paintings that could make a whole crowd of people slaughter each other.”

“Ah, yes, I saw the news about the bloodbath. Alright, I’ll send them a reply that I’ll be sending a group in my stead due to ill health. I’ll keep it vague so you can just use my name at the door.”

“I knew I could count on you.”

“This is the last time Jack. I’m retired.”

He chuckled. “You said that last time, and the time before that, and the time before that.”

“I mean it. The doctors tell me I have a year left, at most, and I plan to spend that time relaxing.”

“What?” His smile faded almost immediately.

“My family have a history of cancer so I should have expected it eventually.”

“I’m sorry. Is there anything that they can do?”

“They might. I’d rather not go through all that for a few extra years when I don’t have any children to stick around for though. When I go I go.”

“Isn’t it worth fighting?” Asked Gwen, unable to hold back any longer.

He smiled softly. “Miss, I have swum with dolphins, climbed mountains, walked the great wall and even seen aliens. I’ve lived a long and lucky life. Too lucky for my own good sometimes. I am quite ready. but I appreciate the concern. Now, you leave me to deal with the invitation. If you’re coming to me for help then you must be busy.” 

Jack nodded. “It was good to see you again.”

“You too Jack. Miss.” He nodded his goodbye to them and they made their way back outside. As soon as she set foot into the cold afternoon air her phone rang. 

“Hi Andy.” She answered.

“You wanted an update on Melodys sisters case.”

“Oh yea. What have you got?”

“We have a suspect. Alastor Grey the second. His car was seen in front of her house at the time of the murder and his DNA was found at the scene. We’re still looking into it but… There’s word around the station that he’s one of those that runs off to their rich parents and ends up with the shortest sentence possible.”

“Christ. Ok, thanks.”

“And the family is welcome to clean the house and get whatever items they want now. Forensics has swept the place top to bottom.”

“I’ll make sure she knows.”

“How’s she doing? I dropped by the other day but she wasn’t in the office so I guessed she might be taking some time off.”

“She’s been keeping busy with paperwork downstairs. Her parents visited at the weekend but she hasn’t really wanted to talk about it.”

“I can send her the number of a good grief counsellor.”

“I already tried to get her to call one but she just says she’s ok and throws herself into work.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.” 


	3. Grief

Melody had got a taxi to the police station and then to Delilahs house as soon as she clocked off from work. Everyone had advised against it, but she’d already promised her mum that she’d collect anything important from the place. She unlocked the front door, ducking under leftover police tape, the smell of disinfectant strong in the air. It was strange. The cleaning shouldn’t have been done yet. Flicking on the lights she saw a large piece of the carpet had been cut away, leaving the concrete slab bare underneath. That’s where the bleach smell was coming from as the edges of the carpet closest to the missing piece was that tell tale yellow colour. She opened the windows to air the place out and looked around for a bucket to try and dilute the chemical with. Alas she couldn’t find any sign of one so she settled for a large jug to fill with water. The carpet would have to be replaced anyway and she guessed the cleaner she planned to call the next day would remove the rest. This was just for her own comfort. With that done she headed upstairs to look for anything her mum might want. The whole time she acted as if she couldn’t feel that there was someone else in the house. The one who’d tipped bleach all over the floor she guessed. She wondered which window he’d climbed in through. She hadn’t noticed any broken glass or felt a cold draft wafting through so maybe he’d picked the lock in the back door. The master bedroom looked untouched so she doubted they were just a thief, especially as Delilahs jewellery box was sat open and still full. She sorted through the garish pieces and pulled out a ring that had belonged to their great grandmother, a locket that their dad had given Lilah for her eighteenth birthday and her diamond engagement ring. It was flashy and Mel was sure her sister would want to be buried with it. She collected one of the womans dresses. A white gown with gold trim. She found the matching shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe along with an old photo album. Opening it to the middle she saw photos she recognised from her childhood, except they’d been folded or cut to remove her from each. She sighed and placed the album with the dress and jewellery, not knowing why she expected anything else. The smell of bleach got stronger again.

“You know you could have left when I walked upstairs.” She said, turning to look at the figure in the doorway who’d frozen in shock. “What are you looking for?”

The man, dressed all in black, looked her over. “You… You’re her sister, right?”

“As we have very similar features, yes.”

“Then you should know where it is.”

“Where what is?”

“The vase.” He growled, brandishing the hunting knife clasped in his hand. 

She didn’t show even an ounce of fear. “You’re going to have to elaborate. This is my first time visiting her home so…”

“Bullshit! You’re her sister. Where’s the vase? It’s worth more than you could imagine!”

“If Delilah had something like that she would have sold it the first chance she had. Oh and drop the knife.” She said flatly. 

His hand opened on its own and the blade clattered to the floor. “How did-”

“So you’re the one who stabbed her.” 

“I… How did you do that?!”

“She has a son, did you know that? Of course you do. You’re just another one of her affairs aren’t you?”

He tried to grab for the knife.

“If you touch that knife it’s going to feel like your hand is on fire.” 

He didn’t heed her words and cried out as an intense burning pain shot through his hand, making him stagger back and fall against the hallway wall. “What the fuck?!”

“What the fuck indeed. Walk downstairs.” 

His body pulled itself up and walked stiffly down the stairs, stopping at the bottom.

She joined him a moment later, closing the windows casually. “So, did you really kill her? Were you the one?”

“How are you doing this?! What are you?!”

“Answer the question!” She hissed.

“Yes, ok? I did! Not that the police can do a damn thing about it.”

“Why? Why did you kill her?”

“That vase was meant to be mine.”

“You killed her over a glorified flower pot?!”

“You couldn’t possibly understand the true value of art.”

She took a long, calming breath, before pulling out her phone to call the police.

“I’ll be back as soon as my father bails me out. I’m going to get what belongs to me!”

She held the phone in one shaking hand. “Walk to the top of the stairs.”

His body pulled him upstairs. “Wait, what are you-”

“I’m giving you one chance to let it go and walk out of here. Never come back and this ends.”

“Fuck off. I’m not giving up ten grand.”

“Then face the bottom of the stairs and jump.” Her voice echoed through the room, reverberating off the walls, feeling like crashing waves. 

His body thudded down the flight of stairs, rolling, before landing in a heap at the bottom. He was alive but his arm was clearly broken and he was bleeding from a large gash in his forehead. She walked outside and sat on the doorstep, locking the door behind her before letting go of the telepathic link. Tears pricked in her eyes, the emotion dampening effect now gone as she dialled nine nine nine.

When Jack arrived the house still had a police car sitting outside. He knocked on the door and it was answered by a police officer who didn’t look entirely impressed. He guessed it was because he assumed he was there for Torchwood reasons.

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking your case from you. Melody’s a friend. She called me.” He clarified, sweeping past the officer.

Melody was sat on the sofa next to a female officer in the living room. She looked up, her visible eye still puffy and sore.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head and turned back to the officer. “Am I ok to grab the things on the bed upstairs?”

“That’s fine. We’ve taken the evidence already.” The woman said, her voice calm and comforting. 

She walked upstairs, carefully sidestepping the drops of blood splattered across the wood. Grabbing one of Delilahs overnight bags she placed the dress, shoes, album and jewellery inside before turning back. The house felt cold, like it had been abandoned for years, and she was relieved to be leaving. Jack held the door open for her and waited until she was buckled into the car to speak. 

“So… What did you mean you’d done something bad when you called?” He asked.

She played with her fingers nervously. “He admitted to killing Delilah so I made him throw himself down the stairs.”

“I would have done worse.”

“Jack… A healthy human being wouldn’t do that.”

“In your position, yes they would. I know you don’t want to talk about how you’re feeling but at this point I need to know if you’re going to be able to cope at work. Mr Grey is part of the painting theft case so if you need to take a couple of weeks out then you can.”

“No.” She whimpered. “I can’t be at home, on my own with only my thoughts. I need to be doing something. It’s the only thing keeping me sane right now. All I do when I get home at night is cry or try and sort out funeral arrangements. A funeral I can’t even attend. Even now all I’m thinking about is that I’m going to have to tell the cleaners that the job’s bigger than I originally said.”

“Why are you doing all of this on your own?”

“Because I can’t let my mum and dad go through all this. They loved her even if she was a bitch. They shouldn’t have to organise any of this.”

“Have you considered that maybe they want to?”

“Why would they even want to?”

“Closure… They loved her so they’ll want to do what they think is best. You destroying yourself isn’t helping them.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not sleeping and you’re sure as hell not eating anything in the day.”

She didn’t want to admit it but he was right. The almost constant nausea made her want to avoid food at all costs. “I thought keeping busy would make me feel better but everything I do just makes it hurt more. It’s not like anything I do is going to give me the answers.”

“What answers?” He asked softly, glad she was finally opening up a little. 

“Why she hated me so much. Why she went out of her way just to hurt me… I’m never going to get her to say she’s sorry for any of it. I always hoped that one day she’d snap out of it. When Persephone started to try and be civil I thought there was a chance… But now that’s gone. She’s gone. All because he thought she was hiding some stupid vase from that bastard… Knowing a motive is meant to make it easier but it’s just so petty. I was so angry and…”

“You don’t always get an apology but in time you won’t really need it. All this hurts now but it will fade, I promise. And I’m not angry that you made him launch himself down the stairs. Tosh was monitoring any medical information under his name and it looks like he had a mild concussion, a broken arm and a hell of a lot of bruising. Plus everyone’s at the hub digging up dirt on Lord Grey. The second we’ve destroyed those paintings we’re going to make sure that whole family get exactly what they deserve.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know we don’t have to. We want to. Anyway, he deals in dangerous alien artefacts, he made this our business.” He glanced over at her. Her eyes were closed and she looked like she hadn’t slept at all in weeks. “What are you doing as soon as you get home?”

“Getting something to eat… Take a nap… Then call the - wait no, they’ll be closed by now. Call mum, then try and relax.”

“Good plan.”

“Thanks for putting up with me.”

“What are friends for.”

That weekend Tosh and Gwen went to buy the dresses they’d need to even step foot into the black market auction while Ianto was sent for the suits. It was taking a lot longer than any of them had hoped.

“What do you think of this one?” Asked Gwen, stepping out of the changing room wearing an off white halter necked gown. 

Tosh shook her head. “The colour washes you out.”

“Anything short of bright red is going to wash me out. I wasn’t blessed with tannable skin. I’m either paper white or lobster red, no in between.” She sighed and headed back into the changing room with the last two dresses she had to try on. They were all ridiculously overpriced in her opinion but that tended to come as part and parcel of designer labels. 

“Did we find a red one?”

“Yea, but don’t you think it’s a bit much? I don’t want to stand out.”

“From what I’ve heard downplaying your outfit will be more out of place. The whole event is about showing off.”

“I think I’d rather dress like one of the serving staff.”

She smiled. “I suggested that but all the staff are very closely monitored.”

“I swear my wedding dress isn’t going to cost this much.” Gwen cringed at the price tag hanging on the inside of the red gown as she carefully pulled herself into it.

“How is wedding planning going?”

“Pretty well. I’m just having trouble getting Rhys to actually have an opinion on anything.”

“Oh?”

“He just says that as long as he gets to marry me then he’s happy.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“It is. It’s just not helpful when I’m looking for a little input. His mum wants everything to be very traditional and as nice as that is of the surface if she tries to get me into one of those huge, eighties, poofy dresses I might throw myself into the sea.” 

“It’s your wedding, you can wear whatever dress you want.”

“I know. I just get sick of her tutting because it’s not what  **she** would have chosen.”

“You should plan everything in secret from her. She can’t tut at what she doesn’t know about.”

“True. Right, what do you think of this one?” She stepped out of the dressing room in a floor length, crimson, layered gown with beaded details around the bodice. 

Tosh nodded. “That one.”

“Are you sure?”

“It suits you.”

“I suppose if we need a distraction my boobs are pushed up under my chin.” She laughed softly. 

Tosh joined her in the giggling. “Just make sure it’s only the other guests you’re distracting.”

“Don’t worry, you’re the one Owen will be giving bedroom eyes to all night.”

“If it’s anything like the last time I got all dressed up then he’s going to look more like he’s a teenager taking me to the school disco. He gets all awkward.” She smiled fondly.

“How is he now?”

“Better. He still has a little trouble if it gets too cold at night but otherwise he’s doing much better.” 


	4. Do you like heists?

The Grey estate sat in the middle of nowhere and was surrounded by a mix of dense forest and old wrought iron fences. On warmer days deer could be spotted grazing and if not them then the large number of pheasants that would play proverbial chicken with cars. The distance from the front gate had always allowed Alastor, both junior and senior, to hide any sign of impropriety long before any police car could reach the manor itself. As far as they were concerned the Grey family were royalty and the estate was their kingdom. Now, if only the crowned prince hadn’t got himself caught red handed trying to steal from the peasantry after being bested by a mere flight of stairs. It was an embarrassment but not one that Lord Grey couldn’t recover from. He would have his auction and if anyone asked where his son was he would simply tell them the boy had been sent to see his relatives. Any talk of lawbreaking would not be tolerated. Downstairs the guests were already arriving, each being checked off the list by the doorman that looked more muscle than brain. 

Jack strode up and gave his best smile. “Good evening. We’re here on behalf of Mr Arnold Kent.”

“Oh, yea, Mr Kent called. Enjoy your night.” The doorman said, gesturing for them to enter. Other guests were already mingling, looking at some of the pieces up for auction, and starting their first glasses of wine for the night. Gwen and Tosh hadn’t needed to worry about being overdressed as every woman in sight was wearing something designer or covered in diamonds. Some wore it well, others not so much. Lady Grey stood speaking to one of the staff members, her hair pulled up into an impossibly neat bun decorated with a delicate fascinator. Her gown looked to be one of a kind, tailored to suit her perfectly, layers of fine white silk drifted with each slight movement. She had the face of someone who’d had too much botox over the years, her expressions looking just a little uncanny. Her eyes drifted across the small crowd already gathered around the pieces and smiled in her odd muted way. Her eyes lingered on Jack for just a little too long to be comfortable. Like a lioness eyeing up an injured antelope. She crossed the room, politely brushing off some of her more chatty guests before stopping in front of Jack.

“Well, a new face, how lovely.” She trilled.

He gave a charming smile, practiced over years of having to keep on the good side of people he disliked at best. “Lady Grey. Mr Kent sends his fondest regards.” He could practically feel Ianto rolling his eyes as he stood to the side with Gwen.

“Oh yes, he called last week. Such awful news about his health. How does a young man like you know Mr Kent?”

“He was friends with my dad back in the day. He insisted that anything he bought today was brought right to him so he asked for me and my colleagues to attend so there wouldn’t be any issues with the heavy lifting.” 

“Of course.” She giggled, relaxing a little as her suspicions eased. “How rude of me, I never even asked your name.”

“Jack.”

“Jack. A strong name. I like that. Well then Jack, feel free to have a drink and I’m sure I’ll see you later.” She purred, waltzing away to attend to making sure the night ran smoothly. 

Ianto was failing at keeping a straight face. “She was… Friendly.”

“Maybe like a cat would be with a mouse. We need to find out where those three paintings are being kept. I want them destroyed before anyone gets the chance to look at them.” Jack let his smile fade into a much more natural expression. 

“Thankfully the security system is specifically set up to monitor the outside of the building so as long as we don’t get spotted by the staff we should be able to keep everything quiet.”

“And as soon as that’s done the police are ready to close in on our mark.” Gwen noted.

Jack looked over to the window. “And if we take out the security system on our way through the building it’ll give them a better chance of getting here before any evidence is destroyed.” 

“Leave that to me.” Said Tosh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If I can get to the computer they have everything networked through I can make sure they don’t suspect a thing.” 

“Do your best but don’t put yourself in danger. These people think they’re untouchable.” 

“We need to find out where everything is. I don’t think they’ll let us just wander around the place.”

Gwen looked over to one of the door staff and approached. “Sorry to bother you. It’s my first time at an auction like this and I don’t want to wander into the wrong place, can you help me?”

“Of course ma’am. Lord Grey has opened up the entire ground floor for guests to tour. We only ask that you don’t venture outside for your own safety. Signs are posted for the bathrooms on the second floor. Beyond that Lord Grey asks that guests respect his privacy and do not enter the third floor. Is there anything else I can help you with ma’am.” The doorman smiled politely.

“Thank you. That’s all I needed to know.” 

“Enjoy your evening.”

Gwen nodded and left to re-join the group. “Anything we’re not supposed to see is probably on the second and third floors. Those are blocked off to guests.”

“The artwork that isn’t on display is probably on the second floor then, so they don’t have to carry it so far. That or in a back room behind the hall.” Owen said, a hand on Toshikos hip as he shot daggers at a man who’d been looking her over. 

“Maybe some of the other guests know.”

“Time to go eavesdropping then.”

Owen had been quietly watching one of the doormen as he guessed they were part of security for the night while Tosh somehow managed to keep up conversation with a woman who seemed far too into one of the sculptures. He couldn’t even figure out what it was meant to be, let alone how it was  _ revolutionary _ or  _ embodying the concept of the soul itself _ . It was all a bit pretentious. The woman had moved onto the next piece and was spouting off how it had changed her life the first time she’d seen it. No longer a bit pretentious, it was a lot pretentious. 

“Be right back.” He whispered to Tosh before heading towards the stairs, tailing the doorman. After all, the bathrooms were on the second floor, so it wouldn’t look out of place for him to be walking up there. Without the music or chatter of the floor below he could hear other voices, getting louder as he followed the doorman. They got louder still as he opened a door just beyond the corner of a side hallway, the light of many screens glowing from within. It sounded like the security team were having a better night than the guests downstairs. He wondered if he could get away with spending the rest of the auction with them but their boss probably wouldn’t be too impressed. At least he’d found the security room, though he wasn’t sure how he was going to get all of the staff out of the place so Tosh could do her thing. He’d think of something. He loosened his tie, feeling like it was choking him. Maybe it was the atmosphere. That or the obnoxiously strong floral smell for all of the cut lilies decorating the hall. What were they trying to do, kill people via allergies? 

He walked down the second staircase and waded through the crowd and back to Tosh who looked like she’d only just escaped the overly enthusiastic art lover. 

“Please tell me you found something.” She said, relaxing a little.

He nodded. “Security office is one floor up but there are four guards sitting inside. Not sure how we’re going to get them out of there, but being as you managed her I’m sure you’ll work something out.” 

“Don’t.” She sighed, amused by his teasing. “There’s only so much I can gather from the little card in front of each piece.”

“Are you sure looking at the swirly thing wasn’t life changing?”

“Not even a little.” 

Gwen had been listening in to the chatter near to the table with the nibbles and it wasn’t going well. Or it hadn’t been until two older ladies approached.

“Oh, have you heard about what Lord Grey’s keeping hidden for later?” One woman said, looking as if she knew the biggest secret in the world. 

The other woman took a napkin and a few nibbles from the spread. “I heard he had something but I’m not sure what.”

“It’s a set of cursed paintings.”

“Who’d want cursed paintings?”

“I don’t know if they’re really cursed but they’re certainly valuable. I heard they were painted on leather instead of canvas.”

“Oh you’ll believe anything.” She scoffed. 

“I’m serious. That’s why they’re being kept in his room.”

Bingo, that was exactly what Gwen needed. She swept around the edge of the room, spotting Ianto being as quiet as usual. It was one of his best skills, being able to disappear in a crowd unless you knew him. 

“I heard the paintings are being kept in Lord Greys bedroom.” She said with a smile.

He nodded. “That’ll be on the third floor, but being as Lord Grey hasn’t shown up yet I think he’s probably with them.”

“He’ll have to come down before the auction starts. We might get a chance then.”

“It’s cutting it close but it’s worth a shot. We should try and get up there to find the room at least.”

“True. Where’s Jack?”

“Lady Grey invited him to join her in her reading room upstairs.”

“At least that’ll keep her busy. You don’t think he’d-”

“Don’t say it. Don’t think it. I’m choosing to believe he wouldn’t, even with a gun to his head.”

“Well, good luck to him. Let’s get moving.”

Jack had followed Lady Grey up to her reading room. It was a lovely little room, the walls lined with bookcases, and a full length window on the far wall that would keep the place illuminated all day. She sat on one of the long sofas.

“Please, make yourself at home.” 

He sat on the second sofa, keeping a nieve front. “Don’t you want to be part of the gathering downstairs?”

“Oh, all of that is for my husband. Frankly I’d rather not have so many people in my home at this time of the evening.” 

“You wanted to ask me something. So…”

“Relax Jack. I’m not going to ask you to do something awful. What have you gotten yourself into to owe Arnold? Is it money? Trouble with the police?”

“Nothing like that.”

“I can make that all go away for you. All of it. I can make sure you’re taken care of. All I’d ask is your fine company.” She smiled. 

He feigned surprise. “But what about your husband?”

“Oh he’s more interested in his business and his horses. He hasn’t cared about me in years. It gets lonely.”

“I’m flattered but I couldn’t possibly. I’m taken.”

“They don’t need to know… Or… Of course, a man as handsome as you has to be gay. I should have known.” She sighed, leaning on the armrest, her face in her hand. “I was kidding myself anyway. An old bat like me.”

He’d seen this whole act before. She’d look for sympathy and when that didn’t work she’d move on to threats. Anything to get him into her bed. He was glad he didn’t drink while working because he wouldn’t put it past this woman to try and slip something into his drink. “Maybe I should go.”

“No! Wait… Please, just… Let’s start again, as friends.” She stood and walked over to a cabinet, pulling out two glasses and some kind of unlabelled alcohol. 

Jumping past threats and right to drugging. He could handle that. “Well… It would be better than trying to make small talk downstairs.” He smiled as she poured two glasses of deep red wine. Her sleight of hand was good, practiced, but he’d used the same trick so many times while retconning people that he knew it like the back of his hand. With one fluid movement he took the clean glass, swapping it with the spiked one, and took the bottle to examine. She sat back confidently and swirled the liquid in her glass, sure she had him now. He ‘absentmindedly’ took a sip, not actually ingesting any of the strong wine. It smelled expensive but it wasn’t to his taste. 

“What do you think?” She asked before taking a long sip of her drink.

“Not bad. I’m usually more of a whisky man but this isn’t bad at all.”

“It’s one of my favourites. I hope your friends won’t mind you being here.”

“No. They have their own orders.” 

She tittered and downed the rest of her drink. 

“You know, when you invited me up here I expected you to be a lot more aggressive.”

“Hmm?” Her head swam and she placed down her glass, thinking she’d maybe drank the wine a little too fast.

“I mean you didn’t even try to blackmail me.”

She rested her head on the arm of the sofa, trying to solidify her thoughts as the room began to blur. “How… What…”

“Take it easy. I’m not you. I’m not going to take advantage. Have a nice nap Lady Grey.” He said, standing. He made sure the glasses and bottle were safely left in the centre of the table, pouring his drink into her glass and wiping clean the now empty glass with a handkerchief before placing it back in the cabinet. It all looked like he was never there. With that done he checked that Lady Grey was resting on her side so she didn’t choke and headed to the door. At least she’d made it easy to keep her out of the way.


	5. Auction time

Lord Grey took one last look at his cash cow of the night before heading out to greet his guests. He made sure to lock the door behind him, not trusting his security team to keep people where they should be. Cold metal could do what people couldn’t. Confident they’d be secure until he returned to gather them for their final sale he rushed off. Behind him Ianto and Gwen peeked out from their hiding place in the guest room next door, making sure the Lord was out of both eye and earshot before venturing into the hall.

“You don’t happen to have any bobby pins do you?” Ianto asked, crouching in front of the lock to examine it. 

She smirked. “My hair is held together with two packs of the bloody things. And a can of hairspray.” She pulled out a couple of the hair pins and handed them over. 

“As nice as it looks, why did you go through so much effort?” 

“It was a good test for the hairdresser for the wedding. I figured if my hair could survive this then it could make it through a wedding.”

He chuckled softly as he began the process of picking the lock. It was an old, clunky, thing so it wasn’t particularly complex, just stiff. Gwen listened carefully for anyone possibly approaching, jumping at the slightest hint. It wasn’t as if they could attend armed so it would just be her, Ianto, and two packs of bobby pins against whoever came waltzing up the stairs, and she doubted they’d be fighting fair. 

A rough clunk said the lock had finally given out and the door swung open slowly. 

“Get inside then.” She whispered, not looking at him. 

“Um… We have a problem…”

“Wha-...” She turned to see a very large tibetan mastiff snoozing in the middle of the room. “Oh… Um… Not carrying any dog treats are you?”

“No.”

“Maybe it’s friendly?”

“Looks like we’ll have to risk it. Come on.” He crept forward, careful not to disturb the lion sized canine.

“I swear if this dress gets chewed up by that thing I’m getting Jack to replace it.”

“If that dog chews up your dress, getting it replaced’ll be the least of your worries.”

She slipped off her shoes and followed him inside, closing the door after her. The paintings were sitting in a row, each carefully covered with a red silk sheet. “They’re bigger than I expected. And you can feel them even covered up.” She cringed as if smelling something bad, telepathic tendrils plucking lightly at her mind.

“Once they’re damaged it shouldn’t be such a problem. Now, how to do this quietly. Throw them out of the window?”

“They’ll probably survive the fall. Can we just tear them?” 

He walked around to the back of one of the paintings, noting that they were oddly shaped pieces of fabric that had been stretched over a frame instead of a neat canvas. The edges looked like they’d been roughly cut and were quite uneven, though some of the damage must have been done over time. He grabbed a loose piece of the fabric and tried to tear it, finding it to be quite tough. “No. I think it’s made of a kind of leather. If we had something sharp this would be easier.”

“Use your teeth?”

“Oh yea, I’d love a mouthful of lead, arsenic and whatever this was tanned with.”

“It was just an idea.”

The dog huffed in its sleep, making both freeze in place, hoping that they hadn’t awoken the beast. The mound of dark brown fur yawned, rolled over, then began its deep but gentle snoring again. 

Ianto let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “Have a look in the draws. Maybe he’s got some nail scissors or something.” 

She tiptoed across the room to the bedside draw and slid it open. It looked normal at first, just a pair of glasses, a book, a small pack of sleeping pills, a few scattered pens that she doubted would be strong enough to damage the paintings. Then she saw it peeking out from under a handful of envelopes. A letter opener. She tossed it across the bed. 

He took it and began slicing the pictures from the frames, splitting each in half. He had to go slowly so he didn’t make too much noise but it didn’t take too long to destroy all three. He folded the pieces and slid them into a hidden pocket inside his jacket. Just then they heard footsteps approaching. There was no other way out.

“Under the bed!” Gwen whisper shouted, scrambling underneath the wooden four poster bed. He had no choice but to follow, laying on his front on the floor beside her as the door was pushed open. Heavy boots marched in. 

One pair stopped in front of the still covered paintings, or at least the frames that once held them. “Are these the ones?”

“Do you see any others? Just keep them covered. I’ve heard that these things send you mad if you look at them.” Another man said. 

“You believe that shit?”

“No, but if Lord stick up his arse orders it, we do it.”

“Yea yea. Stop petting the bloody dog and grab one.”

“Yea yea yourself.” 

After another moment the men left, closing the door behind them. Now all Gwen and Ianto needed to do was escape the room without the now awake dog noticing. The sound of snuffling and panting got closer and Ianto gripped the letter opener harder. He didn’t want to hurt the poor thing but if it was that or a mauling he was choosing that. A cold, wet, nose poked him in the cheek as the huge dog stuck its head under the bed before it began licking his face happily. 

“Hey… Stop… Ok, you found us.” He gently pushed the dog back and clambered from under the bed, the huge creature trying to give him kisses the whole time. Gwen was having to suppress her laughter as he tried to calm the very excited dog as it slid on the wooden floor, its tail wagging so hard it looked like it was dancing. He wiped the slobber from his cheek with a handkerchief.

She smiled. “You made a new friend.”

“Let’s get out before they realise what’s happened to the paintings… Actually, first let’s get some water for...” He checked the tag on the dogs collar. “Trixie, then we should go.” 

Tosh and Owen still hadn’t worked out how to clear the security room when Lord Grey had barged in there. 

“What are you all doing sitting around?! You two, go and guard the auction room and try and look as if you haven’t been dragged out of the gutter.” The older man growled.

Two of the guards sprang up and rushed to the door. “Yes sir.”

“And if I see your shirts untucked again tonight I’m docking your pay, am I making myself clear?”

“Yes sir.” They both said and headed off to the stairs. 

“And you two. Go and fetch the three covered paintings from my bedroom. Trixie’s asleep up there so try not to fall over her. Oh, and the same goes for you two about your shirts.”

The two rushed off, muttering under their breath about their employer. Lord Grey sighed, as if shouting at them was a great imposition before straightening up and putting on a fake smile. He walked to the stairs and a round of applause rose from below. 

“Sorted then.” Tosh noted.

Owen nodded and ran over to the door to catch it before it closed. He held it for her as she pulled her pda and cables from her purse. He’d never work out how she managed to carry so much in such a small bag, especially without the aid of pockets. 

“What’s the plan then?” He asked, placing a chair under the door handle just in case. 

She pulled the computer tower from underneath the table. “It’s an older system so I can just plug myself in here and create a loop for it to play. They won’t notice until it’s much too late.” Her fingers danced across the keyboard projected from the PDA, cracking through the computers security like fine porcelain shattering across a tiled floor. She almost made it into an artform. He’d watched her do the same to military grade systems and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it impressive. There was so much brutality in the world and Toshiko Sato was his break from all that. She was patient, trusting and kind, but when it came to technical things in her way she was like a juggernaut. In his experience people tended to be kind or smart but not both with very few exceptions. That’s why it had taken almost dying in a field, shot by a man he’d once looked up to, to accept that maybe Tosh wanted to be with a complete fuckup like him and he needed to stop pushing her away. He wasn’t protecting her and he certainly wasn’t protecting himself. Even back then he hated being alone. It was empty and cold, but he hadn’t felt like that in years now. Part of him wanted to somehow slap his past self for being a moron. 

“What are you staring at?” She asked, peeking over her shoulder at him illuminated by the screens. 

“Your arse.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Keep your mind on work. I’m nearly done here.”

“My mind  **is** on work, it’s my eyes that are on your arse.” He grinned cheekily. 

“There. All done. The footage is in a ten minute loop but the time code should continue as usual.” She pulled the cables out and stuffed them into her purse with her PDA. “We should get back to the others.”

“We could grab a few drinks before we completely wreck the night.”

“This doesn’t count as a date.”

“I know, I know. If it did I wouldn’t be such a gentleman.”

“In this dress you wouldn’t have much choice.” 

“Eh?”

“It’s going to take me an hour just to unlace it.”

“I’m sure we could work something out.”

“Maybe later when we aren’t risking getting caught.”

“Isn’t that half the fun?”

“You’re going to get us into trouble one day.” She smiled warmly and fixed his tie. 

He moved the chair from the door. “That wasn’t a no.”

“True.”

Jack watched as most of the crowd filtered into the auction room. He was about to start worrying when he saw Gwen and Ianto descending the stairs. 

“You escaped the ladies clutches then.” Ianto said. 

“Thankfully. What did you find?”

“The three have been found and destroyed.”

“And Ianto made a new friend.” Gwen smiled. “She’s called Trixie and she’s very friendly.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“She was giving him all the cheek kisses.”

“Trixie’s a dog.” Ianto clarified. “She was guarding the room.”

Jack laughed warmly. “Well, I hope she won’t mind if we leave a little early. As soon as Tosh and Owen get back we should make a hasty exit.”

“Agreed.”

“Speak of the devils.”

Tosh and Owen emerged from the left side hallway, having used the staircase at the other side of the building. 

“What’s with all the dust?” Owen gestured to Ianto. 

He sighed. “Me and Gwen ended up hiding under a bed, but we got the job done.”

“Great. Let’s get gone then.”

Later that night Ianto switched on the news as the top story of the night was presented. Five arrests in multiple robbery and corruption charges at the Grey estate. Swarms of police could be seen removing Lord Grey in handcuffs. 

He sank into the sofa next to Jack. “So, what happened with you and Lady Grey?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“You didn’t…”

“No. Of course not. She tried to drug me so I switched our drinks. She’ll wake up tomorrow very confused but otherwise unhurt. You didn’t doubt me did you?”

“No… I just…”

“The mental image?”

“Yes… I never want to think about it again.”

The captain laughed and wrapped an arm around Iantos shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’re the only one who gets that close to me unless it’s someone you’ve invited.”

“I appreciate it.” He leaned into his boyfriend. “I’m still wondering what those paintings were even made out of. They felt like leather but they were thin.”

“Owen’s going to test them in the morning. With the strength of the telepathic effect I’m sure they weren’t painted by human hands so it could be anything.”

“I have my fingers crossed for space cow.” 


	6. Epilogue

“What’s the verdict then?” Jack asked, as Owen emerged from the medical bay.

The doctor looked up. “Well… They were painted on leather but it wasn’t from a cow.”

“Space cow?”

“No. Each of those was made from a skinned human.”

Ianto had never been happier that he hadn’t tried to rip them with his teeth. 

“They were made at some point around seventeen fifty and the paint is mostly mineral based, not all sourced from Earth. Whatever made them had a serious hatred of humans but, as the system hasn’t flagged anything similar, it looks like it was a one off.”

Jack leaned on the doorframe of his office. “Any residual effects?”

“Not that I can feel but we should probably ask Melody to double check.”

“I’ll go and ask her.” Said Tosh, pushing away from her desk with a yawn. “I feel like the fresh air might wake me up a little.”

Gwen gave her a questioning look. “Didn't you sleep?”

“Yes, I just went to bed a little late.” She smiled, pretending she didn’t notice the smirk on Owens face just before she walked up the stairs. 

The tourist information office was its usual, almost completely unchanging, self as Melody sat and checked over what looked to be a budget report. Tosh let herself in from the hidden door. 

“Are you busy?” She asked.

Mel turned. “Nothing I can’t do later. How can I help?”

“Owen wants you to double check the painting pieces are inactive.”

“No problem. Let me log off and I’ll be right down.”

“You look a little better. How are you coping?”

She set her computer to log off and turned from it fully. “I’m a bit better I suppose. My mum and aunt have taken over organising things. Delilahs ex has taken over dealing with the house so I’m not fielding constant calls anymore.”

“That’s good news. How are you feeling about it?”

Mel shrugged. “I can’t say as I miss her, but … I feel like I should have done more somehow. I mean, I’m the one that deals with all the strange stuff.”

“I think I understand.” She grabbed a second chair and sat. “I had a brother once. Younger than me. He… He passed when I was in prison.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I blamed myself for a long time. I was his big sister. I was supposed to protect him and make sure he knew he was never alone.”

“But that wasn’t your fault.”

“Logically I know that, but it took so long to really believe it. I thought that I could have done something to change things, the same as you’re feeling now, but you have to know that’s not true. We can’t change the past. Whether you miss her or not, you need to stop blaming yourself. There was no way you could have known who she was talking to that night.” She took Mels hand in hers. “And you know you can always talk to me.”

The woman nodded, giving a sad smile. “Thanks Tosh.”

Owen had the painting pieces spread out on the table, each separated from its other half just in case. If he was honest they made him feel uneasy. The imagery in itself was nothing particularly special. Figures painted in hues of red and brown, some looking deformed and stretched. If he didn’t know better he’d call it some teenagers edgy art project. A talented teenager, but a teenager nonetheless. He looked up as he heard Melody walk in. 

“You wanted me to check on the paintings?” She asked with a friendly smile. 

He nodded and pointed to the pieces. “They make me nervous to be honest, but I don’t know if that’s just knowing what they’re made of.”

“Well, it’s not just you.” She said, cringing at the feeling she was getting from the pieces. “There’s more than just telepathic residue. It’s like it’s throwing off waves of influence. Whatever made them wanted to spread as much rage as possible.”

He grabbed each piece and flipped them over before wrapping them in plastic. “We know where to file them away then. Might even be able to clock off early.”

“I wonder what made them.”

“Nothing I want to meet.” He said, placing the bundle into a box and sealing it with one of the caution labels. “Any news about your ex yet?”

She was surprised by the sudden change of subject. “No. No new sightings either. It’s like she just disappeared into the ether.” 

“You don’t sound too worried.”

“I’m not. Finding out was a shock but… I suppose I don’t feel responsible for her anymore.”

“Took long enough.”

“I’m not good at letting go of control or responsibility.” She admitted.

“Oh, I meant to say, physicals are next Wednesday as long as nothing comes up.”

“Right, I’ll put it in the calendar.” She turned to leave.

“And Melody…”

“Yea?”

“You’re going to be ok, yea?”

She paused then nodded. “I think so… Thanks.”

“Right.” He gave her a slight nod. “Go on then, before you forget.”


End file.
